


prison is nothing to me (if you’ll be by my side)

by baneberries



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Supernatural, Cats, Demonic Possession, Demons, Elements of Skullduggery Pleasant, Gen, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes - Freeform, Steve Rogers Paints, Supernatural - Freeform, shrinkyclinks, title from lana del rey’s florida kilos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-10 01:19:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16460720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baneberries/pseuds/baneberries
Summary: Steve Rogers hadn’t really believed in the supernatural until the friendly but slightly creepy man who used to come ‘round with his apple cart got possessed by a demon.





	prison is nothing to me (if you’ll be by my side)

**Author's Note:**

> i’m sorry.
> 
> remnants and soul catchers were taken from skullduggery pleasant.

“Take your pick, Stevie,” Bucky had said when he saw Steve staring at his basket of apples. “I don’t mind.”

 

He had smiled with a closed mouth and said, “I’m eating apples while watching The Marvellous Misadventures of Flapjack with an ex-assassin.” Bucky’s face caused him to burst into laughter.

 

“I am not an ex-assassin,” he said firmly. “Don’t believe the rumours.”

 

Steve giggled into the palm of his hand before tapping his watch with his other hand. “Don’t you have somewhere to be, Buck?”

 

Bucky stared at him before blinking. “Oh. Oh yeah. I have one more round to do,” he stands up and makes a phone call gesture beside his ear. He shakes the hand a few times before leaning forward and grabbing his basket of apples. “Call me.” He said softly, smiling in a way that made Steve’s heart thump a little faster.

 

“I will,” he responded. “Cross my heart.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh, come on!” He yells.

 

He knew the walls were unstable and the whole apartment block was seriously close to collapsing but he didn’t know that knocking on the fucking door would be the thing to shift his already shaky easel, knock it to the ground and smudge his painting.

 

He stares at his ruined painting for a moment before standing, shaking from anger and disappointment, where it came from, he has no idea, and walking to the front door.

 

Steve opens the door and sticks his head out. “What?” He snarls, already knowing that he is not intimidating at all.

 

There’s a smiley woman in front of the door, all straight blonde hair, faint freckles on her cheeks and sunglasses perched on top of her head. She’s clutching a sheet of paper and when she notices him looking, she waves it about and says, “Excuse me, but do you know this man?”

 

He’s about to say tell her that he doesn’t but he stops halfway through when he actually looks at the page.

 

It’s a picture of a man with weird black stuff smudged around his. His eyes were also a bright blue colour and also blank. He had long raven coloured hair and oh, he looked so, so familiar.

 

“That’s apple guy.” He blurts out. He feels his face burn and he immediately begins to mentally kick himself.

 

The blonde woman perks up. “So, do you know him?”

 

“Kind of?” He says. “He comes around with an apple cart and he always gives me a free one even though he also says that he shouldn’t,” she nods along, looking eager. He feels like he shouldn’t be saying any of this. “And one time he came over here when I was sick and made me soup. Well, he tried but he accidentally burnt it so he just ordered some from the Chinese place. Oh, and his name is James. But everyone calls him Bucky. But you can call him James— uh,” he falters“just because.”

 

The woman then says, “I’m afraid that he’s in danger.”

 

“Um,” he starts. “I’m not about to be the sidekick in some shitty a hundred dollar budget action movie. I’m sure you could handle this yourself.” he begins to shut the door but then stops himself.

 

What was he doing?

 

He opens the door again and gives her a nervous look. “Alright, so we’re doing this.”

 

He steps aside and allows her in. She brightens momentarily and immediately introduces herself as ‘Virginia Potts, but please, call me Pepper’. She casually steps over his painting before spinning around and saying, “James has gotten possessed by a demon.”

 

He blinks. “Uh. I don’t think I’m the right person to help you with this.”

 

She squints at him. “You are Steve G. Rogers, right?”

 

“I’m a hundred percent sure that I’m Steve Grant Rogers,” he says, feeling a bit stupid.

 

Pepper stares at him for a moment and he stares back. They keep eye contact for a few seconds before he averts his gaze warily. She clears her throat before saying, “So, let’s get started.”

 

* * *

 

 

“So, the thing is,” the energetic woman that Pepper had brought over says. “When dealing with a demon, the first thing you gotta know ‘bout it all is which type of demon it is. Since the gates of some version Hell haven’t been opened or a tear in reality hasn’t been created, let’s assume that this is a low level demon. Or medium level. Whatever.”

 

“Version of Hell?” Steve asks, ignoring the million other questions he has.

 

He’s sitting on his rickety kitchen chair and Pepper is sitting on the other pair of the set. Hers is slightly more stable than his because she sort of a guest and he treats his sort of guests with respect. The other woman is perched on top of his coffee table with her legs folded into a basket form.

 

She looks at him with those deep brown eyes and he instantly feels uncomfortable. Her name is either Lizzie or Lindy. He doesn’t want to ask her again. “Yes,” she says slowly before continuing. “So, this James guy, he used to come around with an apple cart, oui?” She isn’t even French.

 

“Yes,” he answers. “But he sometimes had other fruits with him. Apples were the ones he gave me.”

 

Pepper produces a map of Brooklyn out of nowhere and hands it to Lizzie/Lindy. She takes it and unfurls it, staring intently at it. “He walked long distances, didn’t he?”

 

Steve chews his lower lip in thought. “It took him like an hour to do one round, he told me. He did two or three a day. He also had another job, but I can't remember what it was,” he says miserably.

 

Pepper pats his hand sympathetically and Lizzie/Lindy asks, “Did he attract lots of flies?”

 

“Not a lot but,” he suddenly remembers a time in the summer when the air was particularly sticky and there were flies everywhere. They seemed to be practically chasing after James. Or Bucky. He said he didn’t have a name preference. “yeah.”

 

“So, here’s what we’ve gotten,” Lizzie/Lindy says brightly. “Medium to low level demon. Can possess insects, fruit flies to be exact. In Brooklyn. In America. Causes dark shadowy smudges to appear on your face,” she claps her hands and sighs. “Well, folks, seems like we’ve gotten a Remnant.”

 

“Remnant?” Pepper asks, leaning forward. “What’s that?”

 

“A Remnant is a type of demon. They aren’t really low level demons but if this James guy is particularly dangerous it could become a serious problem.”

 

“What can they do?” Steve asks, suddenly invested in the conversation.

 

“They just possess people. Nothing too fancy,” she waves a hand. “The only thing that makes them sort of dangerous is that once they possess someone, it takes four days to get it out.”

 

“And after the four days?” Steve asks, already dreading the answer.

 

She looks at him, biting her lip. “It’s locked in him forever,” Lizzie/Lindy stares at the map again and continues, “And do you know what makes them even more dangerous? Remnants absorb the memories of the people they possess, which means you can’t tell if someone’s possessed until it’s too late. They can act, they can impersonate and there’s only one thing on this earth can get rid of them.”

 

They sit in silence until Pepper speaks up, “If we’re going to get something built,” she says solemnly. “We better go and see my husband.”

 

* * *

 

 

“We wanted something magical built,” Lizzie/Lindy is saying loudly as they go up on the elevator in Stark Tower. “And you thought it’d be a good idea to go to a man who refuses to believe in any of this shit?”

 

“Language.” Steve mumbles and they both expertly ignore him.

 

Pepper scowls. “I trust Tony,” she says before tacking on, “To an extent.”

 

“To an extent,” Lizzie/Lindy echoes before saying louder, “To an extent!”

 

The elevator doors slide open and reveal a white, pristine room that has a person inside, a dark haired man with a pointy goatee, sunglasses indoors and a delighted expression that only widens when he catches sight of his wife and Lizzie/Lindy.

 

“Eliza!” Tony Stark cries dramatically, getting to his feet and opening his arms. “Oh, how I’ve missed you. Planning on dumping another glass of wine on me, hm?” While he’s talking, he’s also nuzzling his nose against Pepper’s neck. It would probably be adorable if Tony Stark was less Tony Stark.

 

Eliza frowns. “I go by Libby now.” So he had been completely wrong, then.

 

“We need something built,” Steve interjects before Libby decks Stark or Pepper begins taking off his shirt or something. “I’m Steve, by the way.” He gives an awkward half wave.

 

Stark perks up instantly. “What do you need?” He’s kind of like a puppy. An awkward, gangly puppy. It’s kind of endearing.

 

“A Soul Catcher.” Libby says. Stark stares at her for a moment before bursting into laughter. Pepper smacks his chest lightly and chastises him. He pats her hair lovingly before continuing to giggle, but quieter this time.

 

“God, Stark,” Libby is saying angrily. “When you pull shit like this I instantly remember why I poured wine all over your ‘costs more than my annual salary’ suit.”

 

“Of course it costs more than your annual salary,” he says, grinning. “Didn’t you get a ghost busting degree in an invisible college in the Bermuda Triangle?”

 

She rolls her eyes good naturedly. “I have a classics degree, you complete twat. And I went to Oxford.”

 

He dissolved into giggles again. “It wasn’t even good wine. It was like the Walmart type. No, the Lidl type.” Steve should probably step in, but Libby and Stark argue like good friends instead of like that sketchy guy who hangs around your apartment in the dark, tried to sell you weed and offered to have a fist fight with you at one point.

 

Pepper pipes up. “You two can have a go at each other another time. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in the middle of a situation and we need a Soul Catcher quick. Four days, remember?”

 

“Three days,” Steve corrects helpfully. “I last saw him acting normally yesterday, remember?”

 

She nods and says solemnly, “Even worse, then.”

 

“What’s this ‘Soul Catcher’ supposed to do anyways?” Stark asks, directing his question at Pepper. Libby answers anyways.

 

“Catching Remnants. Type of demon,” Libby says distractedly, absently watching the documentary that was showing up on Stark’s massive television. “We need something from Macgillycuddy Reeks. It’s a mountain range in Ireland.”

 

“My friend collects rocks from different countries,” Steve says at the same time that Stark says, “Sam Wilson has Irish rocks.” Stark swivels to face him dramatically and Steve stares at the ground, flustered.

 

Stark looks at the ceiling before saying, “JARVIS, send a text to bird brain aka Sam Wilson saying ‘come down to the tower a-s-a-p and bring your stupid rocks’, thanks.”

 

“Of course, Boss.” The building responds dryly (oh, and now a building has a personality) and woah, Steve didn’t expect that but at the same time, he wasn’t surprised.

 

So after a bit of sitting around and accepting the little fruit sticks that Stark’s friendly robot Dum-E had brought, trilling and beeping happily, Sam walks into the room clutching a box, looking panicky and frazzled and also looking like someone attempted to drown him several times. Stark looks at the puddle that he creates with mild disdain, his lip curling. He doesn’t comment on it.

 

Libby grabs the box and immediately gets down to business.

 

“Is it like a dreamcatcher or something?” Pepper asks Libby. Steve takes a step towards her. Pepper Potts radiates a nice energy and she seems so calm and collected all the time. She’s the kind of person you need in an emergency.

 

Libby scoffs, going through the stones. “We’ve already stolen enough from the Native Americans, don’t you think?” Pepper flushes red and she pauses, apologetic. “It’s just a stone from Macgillycuddy Reeks with a sigil engraved in it. The knife used for the engravement must have the blood of someone with Irish heritage on it.”

 

Steve’s eyes widen and he takes a step backwards. “Uh…”

 

Libby brings a small knife out of nowhere and is approaching him confidently. “Don’t fret, Rogers,” she says, entirely too cheerful. “Just give me your palm, yeah, there we go.” After she makes a little slit on his wrist, she places the knife inside a little satchel.

 

Steve had nearly forgotten that Tony Stark was still in the room. “First thing, how the fuck do you know all of this?”

 

Libby smiles wryly. “My family practises hoodoo. This is kind of a different branch of it.”

 

“Second of all, just, what the fuck in general?” Pepper and Libby shrug identically in response.

 

“Uh,” Sam Wilson starts, already edging towards the door nervously with his hands up. “I’m just gonna,” he gestures to himself and he door. “sorry, uh—” Stark waves him off.

 

“So,” Steve starts, summoning up some shreds of bravery. “What are we waiting for?”

 

* * *

 

 

“Bucky!” he’s shouting, running up the stairs. He almost trips but he pulls himself back up and continues. “Bucky, wait!”

 

The Remnant is a few feet ahead of him, moving with surprising agility. He’s running up the stairs gracefully, like he’s been doing this his entire life. He turns around momentarily and hisses, blue eyes wide and feral. There are black veins popping up on his pale face and his lips are pitch black and chapped.

 

Steve flinches for a moment before continuing, reaching for him. “Bu—”

 

The Remnant ducks out of his reach and snarls, “I’m not your Bucky.” And he isn’t because his voice isn’t the warm tenor he’s used to, it’s deeper and oh, now his eyes are glowing red, he’s gotta get used to that one.

 

Three days, Steve thinks. It’s repeating like a mantra in his head.

 

The Remnant climbs up to the roof and Steve follows him without thinking.

 

He looks around for him and a black combat boot heads straight for his face. He steps backwards to avoid it and Bucky throws a knife at him. It grazes the side of his face and draws blood. Without thinking again, Steve straight up slaps the Remnant.

 

“Oh shit.” He whispers and then he’s hurling through the air and smacking into a wall.

 

The Remnant walks towards him and Steve launches himself forward and wraps his skinny little fingers around his throat. It isn’t meant to hurt him, just put in a position where Libby can fire the Soul Catcher.

 

The Remnant wriggles and squirms and Steve tightens his grip.

 

“Let go of me,” the Remnant says, adopting Bucky’s voice. “We’re friends, Stevie. You know me. I have one more round to do. Call me. Take your pick, Stevie. I don’t mind.” The Remnant rambles, picking and choosing familiar phrases. Instead of making Steve let go, it only causes him to get angrier. And he’s been particularly good at channeling his anger into something productive.

 

“Let go!” Libby is yelling and Steve jumps off of The Remnant. She throws the stone from the Reek at The Remnant.

 

The Remnant instantly starts panicking. Smoke is rising from its body and its lips are losing their dark colour. “I’ll kill you!” It screeches. “I’ll rip your face off! I’ll tear your limbs apart from you!” It screams one last time and slumps sideways.

 

“Is it over?” Pepper asks, appearing out of nowhere with Stark at her side.

 

Steve stares at Bucky’s unconscious body. “I think so.”

 

* * *

 

 

They take Bucky back to Stark Tower for a checkup with a man called Bruce Banner.

 

He doesn’t remember a whole lot about his possession but he has nightmares about the ones he does.

 

He has to go to therapy so he does.

 

He soon gets an emotional support cat called Casey. She is a good girl.

 

He laughs and sings and kisses Steve Rogers whenever he feels like it. Which is a lot.

 

He opens up a cafe. It’s great. Everything is great.

 

Life is good.


End file.
